


Six Inches Is A Lot To Ask Of Someone's Foot

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed The Try Guys (Web Series)
Genre: Boot Worship, Drunk Sex, Foot Fetish, Gender Neutral Original Character, Other, foot job, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:19:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Eugene goes home with someone one night.... it's more than six inches, but still.





	Six Inches Is A Lot To Ask Of Someone's Foot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fringewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringewrites/gifts).



> This is a good deal shorter than I usually write, but I just... I couldn't resist. I'm also pretty new to Try Guys, but I heard that line, and I just... had to. 
> 
> Fashnik, this is _your_ fault.

“Six inches is a lot to ask of someone’s feet,” said Eugene, and for some reason that stuck in his head. 

For months.

Fucking… months. 

And okay… some of it was… some of it was sexual frustration, general malaise in regards to the state of the world, and okay, when you fuck around and go out to have fun a lot, stuff… happens.

And maybe he was kinda drunk. 

And also maybe there had been some… flirting, some of the weirder flirting, and then there had been mumbling in ears, and now… he was in someone else’s house, and he was kissing them, and this was… god, this was embarrassing, but he was holding on to their hips, grinding forward, his hands in their hair, his mouth on their neck. 

And he’d meant to say something sexy, like “how about you lose those pants” or “do you want me on my back or on top of you?” but what came out was “can I touch your feet?” which was… not what he had planned.

At all.

Um.

They pulled back, raising an eyebrow and giving him a certain kind of look. 

“Sure?”

He… couldn’t remember pronouns, was vaguely sure he knew what body parts were under all those clothes, although you can never be entirely sure.

There are some perks of having… nonstandard interests, and one of them is usually being satisfied with whatever kind of company you could keep. 

As it were. 

“How do you want to…?”

They looked a bit confused. 

“Your boots,” he said.

Because he’d been looking at them. 

They were combat boots - a pair of Doc Martens. They were a deep, shiny green, and he’d been coveting them like a dragon since he’d seen them in the bar. 

“What about my boots?”

They were still wearing said boots, since they’d walked into their house, and then there had been kissing, and then he’d mentioned feet, and now… fuck it.

If he was going to do a thing, he was going to do a thing.

“Can I… can I kiss them?”

“You wanna kiss my boots?”

They didn’t sound weirded out, at least, just faintly amused.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll kiss your boots. If that’s okay.”

“Sure,” they said. “Fuck it, I’m down.”

And Eugene was on the floor, on his knees, looking up, and they were still sitting, the toe of one of their boots pressed against his cheek. 

Eugene nuzzled into the leather, and god, it was… it smelled like leather.

Obviously it smelled like leather, it _was_ leather.

… he was kind of drunk.

Not too drunk to consent, obviously. 

He could tell the difference by now. 

But he was kissing along the toe, and then he was kissing… fuck, he was kissing the lace, and when he looked up at them, they were looking down at him, and... wow.

When had he gotten this hard?

When he’d been straddling them, obviously, but otherwise… well.

Um.

Fuck. 

Why did he have to have a weird revelation about his sexuality on someone else’s floor after god only knew how much bourbon, but… well, these things never come at convenient times.

And then he was licking the boot.

It tasted like leather, and the thick, rich scent of it filled his whole head up like smoke.

He moaned, and he’d be embarrassed, except… fuck it. 

Their other boot slid between his legs, pressed against his cock, and he was… he was humping someone’s foot.

He was humping the sole of a boot, while he kissed along the toe of another one. 

“Do you… do you want my feet, or just my boots?”

They still sounded slightly… well, confused, but their eyes were dark, and they were panting. 

“I’d… if you’re okay with your feet. I mean, with me and your feet.”

God, being horny made him stupid.

“Hold on,” they said. “Can you, uh… can you take my boots off?”

“Yeah, sure, hold on,” said Eugene.

And then they had their foot on his chest, and he was looking up their leg, their tight jeans, and up into their face, and they were staring down at him, eyes wide, lips parted.

And he was… he was being careful, as he untied the boots, unlaced them, and then he was helping them pull the boot down, nuzzling into their ankle.

“Hold on,” they said, and he paused, looking up at them.

“What’s up?”

“The kitchen is right there,” they said, indicating a door to their right. “Go get a towel, wet it, and ring it out. My feet are… kinda gross.”

They looked self conscious.

“I can honestly say that I can live with sweaty foot stank,” said Eugene.

Could he live with it in his mouth?

… he’d put worse things in his mouth.

“I don’t want to do that to you,” they said, and they were pulling their foot up, unlacing their other boot, and Eugene felt a little pang.

He’d wanted to do that.

Huh.

Boot lust.

Actual boot lust.

That was, admittedly, a new one.

But okay.

He stood up, only staggered a little bit, and grabbed a likely looking dishcloth, wet it, wrung it out, and came back.

To find them peeling their socks off, a relieved look on their face, as they leaned back into their chair. 

“Those things are surprisingly hard on the feet,” they said, their expression sheepish. 

He smiled at them, and then he was back on the floor, taking one foot in his hand, then running the cloth over it, carefully. 

“I’ve worn high heels,” he said. “I wanted to die by the end of it.” 

Their feet were… foot sized.

He didn’t know about feet, except that apparently not he wanted to suck on toes.

When had he become this person?

He was too drunk to think about this shit.

He was patting their feet down, and even went between their toes. 

And then there was a foot on his face.

Just… on his face.

Right there.

Huh.

It didn’t smell like much, but it was very soft against his face - their heel was a bit rough, against his chin, and their toes were curling against his temple, against his hair. 

He cleaned off their other foot, carefully, while their toes kept curling against his temple.

“That feels interesting,” they said.

“Hm?”

He looked up, into their eyes.

The light was dim - the light was overhead, and it was casting interesting shadows on their face.

“I associate my feet in someone’s hair with, y’know, getting fucked,” they said. 

They were blushing.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I’m kinda interested in the whole footjob thing, honestly,” they said. “As long as you’re willing to make me cum after.”

“I live to please,” Eugene said, and he was pretty sure he meant it. 

Inasmuch as anyone means anything that they say in a stranger’s foyer, tipsy and horny. 

He pressed a kiss to the bony protrusion of their ankle, endearing in its unloveliness, and then he turned his face more into their arch, kissing it gently, little brushes of his lips, then wetter, when they moaned.

He was smiling, just a bit, and they were sighing, as he moved his lips up further, to the ball of the foot, and then… he had toes in his mouth.

They must have moved them - their sole was against his chin now.

That was an odd sensation. 

They were shorter and stubbier than fingers, the nails were blunter, and when he sucked on them… god, they were trying to wriggle off of the chair, and they were arching their back, and they were panting like they’d been running.

“Fuck,” they said, their voice thick.

Eugene licked his lips, and he took their toes into his mouth again, his tongue sliding between their toes again.

He sucked their toes like a cock, and then there were two feet on his face - toes curled in his hair, and he was supporting their heel with one hand, as he kissed along their toes.

He could feel the strength of their calf, the flex of their achilles tendon - it was a slightly odd sensation - it was easy to forget that bodies were quite so… well, weird.

When it was soft breasts, throbbing cocks, pliable asses… .it was easy to forget that humans were primarily made of bone and gristle. 

There was something vulnerably about feet, which he’d never paid attention to, and now he had them in his face, and it was… it was a weird thing to be noticing at this time of night, in this set of circumstances.

And then the feet were… leaving his face.

Um.

He blinked at them, momentarily discombobulated. 

“So you wanted a foot job?”

They sounded remarkably nonchalant for someone talking about something kind of… weird. 

Then again… in the grand scheme of things, was this that weird?

What even counted as weird?

… he needed to not go down the winding paths that were drunken trains of thought, when he was in a situation that needed his attention _right now_.

“Yeah,” Eugene said, and he tried not to blush at what he was saying, he tried to just… do it. 

Okay.

“Take your cock out,” they said, and god, that was… that was a lot hotter than it had a fucking right to be.

The fact that they hadn’t even left the foyer, that they weren’t in a bed.

Hell, that he was still pretty much clothed, they were pretty much clothed.

“Right,” he said, and he licked his lips, leaning back a bit, then reaching down, to undo his belt, unbutton his pants, then unzip them, and then he was just… fishing his cock out, and god, this was embarrassing, this was… it felt so fucking _dirty_.

This was the kind of kinky shit that people made fun of, and here he was, his cock hard and pink, glistening at the tip, stark against the dark denim of his jeans.

And then their toes were trailing up and down the shaft, and okay, that was… that was a lot more intense than it had a right to be.

The fuck?

It was feather light, and he was breaking out in goosebumps, his own toes curling in his shoes, his hips rolling forward.

“How does that feel?”

They sounded nervous. 

“That’s… that’s good,” he said, and his voice cracked, just a bit.

“Oh yeah?” 

“I’ve… never actually given anyone a footjob before,” they said, in a voice like they were admitting something embarrassing.

“I’ve never really gotten one, so, uh… learning curve?”

He laughed, nervous, and they laughed as well, and some of the tension left the air.

Right.

They were pressing their feet together, and there was… a channel, and he was pressing his cock between it, rolling his hips, and god, that was… that was different.

They paused, and then they bit their lip, and they looked him up and down.

“Take your shirt off,” they said, in a low voice. 

He pulled his shirt off hastily, and then he was… he was sitting on the floor, still in his own shoes, his jeans open, and they were using one foot to press his cock against his belly, and their other foot was on his face again.

He sucked on their toes, because… they were there, and then there was a toe curled against his upper lip, and there were toes curling around his cock, and he was grinding into it.

This was almost embarrassing, except some weird itch in the back of his head was being scratched, and it was _heavenly_. 

He lost track of time - he sucked on their toes, holding on to their calf, stroking along their legs, then back to their heel.

He slid his tongue between their toes, and they gasped, going completely stiff, and then they melted, still rubbing along his cock with their other foot, the ball of their foot against the underside, their toes curled around the head.

It was bony - hot and bony, a strange sensation - there wasn’t really any… padding in feet, the way there was in hands. 

He was almost painfully aware that it was mostly skin, stretched over bone, and it was doing things to his cock, things that made him twitch and gasp and moan.

His orgasm just kind of… came. 

It hit him in the back of the head, and it left him weak, his hips twitching, his breath coming in desperate gasps as he came across his own belly, over their toes.

The pleasure made him dizzy, and he slumped forward into them, still panting. 

They pressed their other foot into his face, and he sucked on their toes without thinking - his cum was salty and bitter, slimy between their toes.

“Fuck,” they said, their voice thick. “That was… wow.”

“Thank you. For that. For… for being willing to do that.”

Eugene cleared his throat, uncharacteristically shy. 

“That was fun,” they said, and then they stood up.

He looked up at them, and he licked his lips.

“Now,” they said, “are you gonna return the favor?”

He nodded, licking his lips.

God, he was still tingling all over. 

“How about you… how about you come with me to the bedroom, and I can see what else your mouth can do?”

He smiled, slow and sweet. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” he said, and he made to stand up.

Only for them to put a hand on top of his head, tangling in his hair. 

“Y’know,” they said, “I think I like you down there. How about… how about you crawl, hm?”

Eugene’s dick attempted to twitch, although it didn’t really succeed.

Oh. 

It was going to be one of _those_ nights.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com


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